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As I get older, one of the Halloween memories that still haunts me to this day is from when I was 12 years old; I was a runaway. While I was roaming the street by myself one evening, I recognized my father’s van pulling up to the main street about five blocks away from our home. I hid behind some bushes so my father wouldn’t be able to see me. That’s when I saw my father come out of the van to go trick-or-treating with my little sister. I was crushed.

Prison can be a place that strips you of all happiness, but I have found a way to focus on the bright side by changing my perception of it. The living accommodations let me relive my childhood with its junior-sized bunk beds. Yes, a 45-year-old man can still drape a sheet over his bunk, make a fort and still be cool. All of the 12-feet-by-15-feet cells come fully furnished with a small table, footlocker and a stand-up locker for two adult men.

This story was originally published on June 7, 2021. Dear Family and Friends, You may be able to tell from the included picture that my dreadlocks are gone. Please do not be concerned about this drastic change. I am not seeking a new religion, nor have I lost a bet. Let me explain what happened. Around 2006, my hair was fashioned into dreadlocks and I kept it that way since it had become an easy identifier or a kind of signature.